Some Nights
by FishFingeresAndCustard11
Summary: Two people - one man, one woman - meet in a 1920's underground club in New York. I'd tell you who they are, but... spoilers. Series of one-shots inspired by "Some Nights" by Fun.


_Hear The Angels' Voices..._

"May I have this dance?"

She looked up to see him, dressed in a surprisingly suave white tux jacket and an unsurprising black bow tie. His straight, skinny black trousers revealed the black lace-up boots he could never truly be parted with. His hair was an imperfectly perfect floppy coiff, and the half-smile on his face made his pretty green eyes sparkle cheekily. He had one hand extended gentlemanly toward her, with his palm open, and the other behind his back as he bowed slightly awkwardly.

"Of course, sweetie," she replied with a sexy, lipsticked smile, placing her cocktail on the small wooden table. She took his hand and stood up, loving the way her dark blue dress clung to her in all the right places yet still flared out stylishly. Her hair was in her trademark ringlets, and bounced around her shoulders whenever she moved; it sent a pleasant tickling sensation down her back. This was definitely her favourite body out of all of them – despite being the oldest physically, it felt the most fun and fit, and she was glad it was this one he had seen (or would see) the most of.

Her heels clicked softly as he led her to the centre of the dance floor of the cute New York club, one of the only places where the alcohol flowed freely throughout the Prohibition period. It was intimate and handsomely decorated, with low ceilings, dark wooden panels adorning the walls and delicate little chandeliers. Most of the small wooden tables covered in white cloths and fancy centre pieces used for cabaret nights, like the one she was sat at, were pushed back to the wall to leave a large space where couples were slow dancing. She was glad Jack had shown her this place – it wasn't her usual choice of a nightclub (or his for that matter), but it was an attractive and secluded place just the same. A good place to unwind. A jazz quartet was playing on the narrow stage. It wasn't a song she recognised, but it really didn't matter. He wasn't as hopeless at dancing as his tall gangly form would suggest, as long as the song was slow and quiet. That way, it wouldn't tempt any Drunk Giraffes. He turned towards her again, the half-smile still in place, and ensnared her waist with his long arms. She simultaneously placed her arms comfortably around his neck. He'd done this before with her, she noted with relief.

"So, where are we now, Doctor Song?" he asked playfully, looking down so he could see her face properly. They started moving slowly around in a neat circle, only really changing at the end of a barre.

"Well, I just escaped from the Stormcage after three weeks ago we saved the Tekelmarron on from being sold as the 'New Ood' by some Slitheen on Selibus 7," she said. "I've not long done Berlin, 1936. And you?"

"Ahead of you," he said. His eyes lost some of their brightness for a second.

"How far?" she asked. He leant down to put his lips to her ear.

"Spoilers..." he whispered. She rolled her eyes, and they danced in silence for a few more minutes. She laid her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes and let him lead her, lulled by the sound of their twin hearts. The world slowed down for an unending and fragile moment.

The music changed and became faster, shattering the illusion. River raised her head, and they stopped turning, but he didn't let her go.

"Are we having a quiet night?" she asked.

"Are you mad, woman?" he laughed quietly. "Or do you just not know me very well yet?" He held her gaze and studied her face. The laughter lines around her eyes, her smooth skin, the unending life in her eyes. Life he'd already seen turn to despair and die. He loved his River no end, and the fact that he'd brought her so much pain in the end through simple disbelief and wariness caused him so much guilt and hurt, to add to the pile of wrenching agony caused by all the sins of his long life, sins that he could not even begin to atone for.

Hiding his dark thoughts from her, he leant down even further, so they were forehead to forehead. "With me, my dear, there is no such thing as a quiet night," he grinned.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," she said simply. She went on tip toe and kissed him gently. He responded with more aggression, but softly moved a hand to her face to cup it tenderly. Eventually, he broke away.

"Melody Pond," he whispered breathlessly, "I love you. I want you to always remember that, no matter how distant I get, no matter how grouchy I get in my youth, and no matter how far away today may seem."

Her eyes were shiny, confused and more than a bit scared – what the Hell was he going on about? - but she nodded. She had a horrible feeling that someday she would understand what he meant. Rather than ponder it, she leant up to kiss him again, more vigorously. His passion met hers, tinged with desperation. Neither wanted the day to come when they'd lose the other, and so were enjoying what time they had. Disapproving stares began to come their way. She broke away this time.

"Shall we take this somewhere more private?" she asked flirtily, knowing his innate shyness would make his adorably awkward. He looked taken aback as she said it, but his face became set into a mixture of determination, fire and love.

"Go on, then," he said, smirking at her shock. Surprising her still, he scooped her up and, kissing her once more, he carried her out the door before the bartender could grab them to make them pay her tab.

He paused at the doors as swirling flecks of white fell gracefully from the stormy grey heavens. They landed decoratively in River's hair, like an icy tiara, and on the Doctor's eyelashes. They stared at them in silent wonder, as awestruck as children. Singing floated up to them on the wintery breeze with the scent of cinnamon and cloves cutting through the bland smell of dirty slush and cold.

"Doctor," she said breathily. "I think it's Christmas Eve."

A big, boyish grin broke across his face. It lit up his features like she'd held a flame to it. "In that case," he responded. "Merry Christmas, love." He kissed her once more, and didn't end it until they were a long way past the door of big blue box perched on the corner of the picturesque street.

Not so far away, near Central Park, a statue of a mother and son blinked.

* * *

A/N: Hey, Fish Custard here. If you liked this, can you please R&R. I may turn this into a drabbly oneshot series if enough people do so positively. If you don't like it, R&R anyway! Lemme know what you hate :) (that came out way more cheerily than was either planned or is healthy :/ )


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